


Addicted

by Pastel_Teacups



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Cocaine, Drug Use, M/M, Overdosing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 23:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1666046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastel_Teacups/pseuds/Pastel_Teacups
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has to get clean. Peter has to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addicted

“Harry, please,” 

The heir didn’t listen, only leaned down to the lines of white on the mirror below him. 

“I told you,” he said after he’d come up, wiping the excess powder from his nose. “If you don’t like it, you can leave.” 

Doe-eyed Peter Parker watched him with worry on his features and contempt on his mind. “But-” 

“Fine.” He said, slamming his hands on the table and making Peter jump. “I’ll leave.” 

He had his coat on and was out the door in seconds, leaving Peter to quietly worry and wonder. 

~

The phone’s ringing woke Peter from his fitful slumber, and he answered it blearily from where he lay on Harry’s couch. “Hello?” 

“Is this a Mr. Peter Parker?” 

The voice was uniform, made to comfort and give bad news. He sat up, worry creasing his brow. “It is. Who’s this?” 

“I’m calling from the St. Francis Hospital. You’re Harry Osborn’s emergency contact, and I’m afraid he’s had an accident.” 

He was off the couch and out the door in seconds, his coat lying forgotten over the side of a chair. “What kind of accident?” 

A hesitation. It made Peter’s heart drop as he tried to hail a cab. “He overdosed.” 

He managed to get a cab, but the address of the hospital was lost on him as the words flowed through his phone. “I-What?” 

“Overdosed. Judging by the effects, it’s off of cocaine. He’s had multiple seizures, and his body temperature isn’t coming down. We’re preparing to put him in some ice water.” She replied, voice never faltering.

Peter managed out the address to the cab driver, the phone held loosely in his hand. “Will he . . . will he be okay?” 

Another moment of hesitance. “He’s alive, if that’s what you mean. But if he doesn’t cut his addiction, it’s only going to get worse.” 

~

Peter wasn’t granted access into Harry’s room for nine hours, long enough for him to have had seven cups of coffee and for Aunt May to have come and gone. 

Finally, a nurse appeared seemingly out of thin air, and led him to Harry’s room. 

Peter looked awful the last time he caught a glimpse at himself in the shiny mirrors of the bathroom, but he looked like a flower compared to Harry. 

The bags that forever rested under his eyes were even darker, his face paler than it’d ever been. His skinny form couldn’t be seen under the hospital sheets, but it didn’t matter. Peter had it memorized. 

Harry looked up at him with his translucent blue eyes, clouded over with illness and the insatiable need for _more_. 

“Hey, Parker.” He greeted, voice rusty and breaking. “Took you long enough.”

“They wouldn’t let me in.” He replied, not taking his eyes off of the older man as he found a chair next to him. “How are you feeling?”

There was a pregnant pause, before Harry’s eyes found Peter’s and stayed there. “Shitty. I’m in the hospital. I almost died.” 

“That’s your fault.” Peter retorted, trying to sound angry. He couldn’t quite manage it. 

The man laying in the bed laughed bitterly, his head falling back. “Right. It’s my fault.” 

“I hope you know what this means,” Peter started, deciding to not mention how he gripped Harry’s hand tightly as he spoke. “You won’t ever be alone again. I’m gonna move in, and you’re going to quit.” 

“You don’t control me.” Harry protested, shaking his head. 

Anger, hot and real, flared in Peter’s gut. “I control this. You’re going to quit.” He said firmly, shaking his head. 

Harry stared at him, eyebrows knit. Then, he nodded. “Okay.” 

~

“How many boxes do you have, Parker?” Harry teased, trying to ignore the way his hands shook with need as he tore open another box of Peter’s stuff. 

Peter lugged in another box, dismissing Aunt May with a peck to her cheek. “Enough to fit all my stuff, Osborn.” 

He smiled, though it was more of a grimace than anything else. 

Peter pretended that he hadn’t seen, his own smile flickering unnoticeably. 

~

“I need it, Peter.” Harry all but sobbed, pulling against the webslinger as he held him back. “Let me go. I _have_ to have it.” 

“No, you don’t.” Peter argued, voice weak where his arms weren’t. It was the middle of the night, and Harry’d shot up with tremors in his hands and a determination to get what he wanted. The room was still dark, the sheets tangled around their legs as they fought one another. Harry was finally drawn tightly to Peter’s chest after a few hurtful moments. He never let go, even after Harry had tired from beating at his chest and fallen asleep. 

Nobody said it would be easy. 

~

“Mr. Parker.” 

“Yes?” The voice’s tone made the brunette pause, the shopping cart stilling at his sudden stop. This wasn’t his aisle.

“I’m very sorry, but Mr. Osborn’s had another overdose.” 

He’d left the cart without a second thought, trying to catch his breath as he ran out the supermarket’s door. “Is he alright?” 

~

He wasn’t. 

When Peter was finally allowed in, twelve hours had passed and he hadn’t done much more than blink.

For the second time, he still looked better than Harry. 

The doctors had told him that Harry’s heart had stopped. Completely. He wasn’t dead, but he looked like he was as close as he could get. 

His eyes were sunken, and his hair was wet from the third ice immersion that day. Only an hour ago had his body temperature been too high for health. 

“Hey, Parker,” he said weakly, like the first time it’d happened. This time, though, he was the one to reach for Peter’s hand. “I’m so sorry.” 

Peter took his place beside his bed, eyes still worried. “You were dead, Har. Your heart stopped.” He whispered out the last statement, looking away. 

“I know,” he said, and even his tone sounded sorry. 

Peter knew what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to be angry. He was supposed to be disappointed, was supposed to remind Harry how _wrong_ this was. 

But Harry was _alive_ , and Peter could do nothing but lean his head onto Harry’s side and cry. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Harry soothed, tightly holding on to Peter’s hand. 

“We’re okay.”


End file.
